I play what's needed, but I do like to take the lead. In my one-on-ones, I often like being the "Game Master" in the sense of creating the setting, controlling NPCs, and steering the plot. But I still like input and collaboration from my partners. In group games, I prefer to be the GM or to play a leading or mentor role.

Favorite Genres

I love a little bit of everything. My top choices would be Horror, Modern Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, Magical Realism, Noir, Steampunk, Cyberpunk, Splatterpunk, Post-Apocalyptic, Historical, Mystery, old-school High Fantasy, and Sci-Fi (especially Spacesagas). I'd love to do some occasional Clockpunk or Weird West or Wuxia or Dieselpunk, too.

Genre You DON'T Like

I guess the only thing I don't particularly care for is high school drama, and even that can be fun with a good hook.

Two figures sat in large winged-back armchairs before a roaring fireplace. The light from the flames danced and cast strange patterns on the wine-colored walls, reflecting and playing off the crystal chandelier that hung overhead. Though both alike in their pointed features and blond hair, there were key differences between the pair: one, the man, had long and immaculately brushed locks and eyes that flickered madly at the slightest sound; the other, the boy, was a living statue, his hands gripping tight on the polished wood of his chair's arms as he stared straight ahead into the fire.

Despite the blaze in front of him, the room was like ice.

"Your mother is taking her time," hissed Lucius Malfoy.

"...Should I go and see why?" the boy heard himself ask. Even to his own ears, the words sounded reluctant.

"You'll do nothing of the sort." His father's reply was all buttered venom. "Bad enough that we've been reduced to a boarding house for all kinds. I'll not have my son answering the door like one of the help."

But it's fine for mother, I suppose, thought Draco, and sank lower in his chair.

He wondered if it had been worth it to come home for Easter, sometimes. The school wasn't much fun these days, as much as it should have been now that the rubbish teachers had gone and Slytherin had the favor in terms of pecking order. Draco had dreamed of this day. Why shouldn't he enjoy the glory?

Why should it matter, how mudbloods and Gryffindors looked at him in the hallways? So what if he saw a rotten, weak old man's face every time he met the eyes of a man who'd once been his favorite teacher? And dreams... were just dreams. They meant nothing.

Malfoy Manor was where Draco belonged. He'd longed to see his parents again. And yet...

He glanced sideways again at the mad-eyed man beside him, and shuddered.

Sounds echoed in the hallway beyond the drawing room. Footsteps coming up the stone staircase, in a large group. Bile rose in Draco's throat. The last time this many people had arrived at the Manor, it had boded ill. He resolutely kept his gaze fixed on the flames as the door creaked open behind him.

"What is this?" drawled Lucius, rising from his seat.

"They say they've got Potter," Draco heard his mother reply. Her voice was stiff, but placid as a glacial lake; she was no doubt trying to remind his father that he should follow her example. And then, a beat later, "Draco, come here."

Potter. That was not a name Draco had expected to hear. His limbs were like lead as he slowly pushed himself up to his feet and turned. Somehow he couldn't bring his eyes to go much higher than his own feet. It felt that it took him a very long time to reach his mother's side.

There were a number of feet, he found. A whole group of Snatchers, his mother, three prisoners at the center and fore of the group. One pair of shabby, tattered boots with holes where the toes ought to be caught his eye, and Draco felt his stomach turn again. Greyback. A muscle in his jaw twitched, but otherwise he refused to let any other sign of weakness slip out.

"But look at him carefully, look! Come closer!" insisted Lucius. He was stalking across the room now, coming to place a hand on Draco's shoulder. His grip was painfully tight. "Draco, if we are the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiv—"

"Now, we won't be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope, Mr. Malfoy?" It was hard not to shiver at the sound of that voice. Fenrir Greyback might have been a man at the moment, but there was a touch of the monster there, something feral and hungry.

"Of course not, of course not!" Somehow, Lucius didn't seem to take heed of that tone. Draco watched his father's feet pass him by, stopping toe to toe with one of the captives. "What did you do to him? How did he get into this state?"

"That wasn't us."

"Looks more like a Stinging Hex to me." His voice lowered to a silky whisper. "There's something there... It could be the scar, stretched tight..."

Lucius Malfoy had never sounded less like the man Draco had always aspired to become.

"Draco," he chattered, voice vibrating with barely-contained excitement, "Come here, look properly! What do you think?"

Giving Greyback a wide berth, Draco came up along his father's right side and at long last lifted his bowed head.

The face of the boy in front of him was grotesque. It was swollen and shiny, stained a dark pink, features twisted in all the wrong places. Shaggy black hair and the hint of stubble along the puffy jaw put Draco in mind of a dark-maned lion that had been stung by a bee. It certainly looked nothing like the Harry Potter he'd known in school.

All but for the slit of an eye, where a brilliant green pupil peeked out from the hideous mask. That eye fixed on Draco's own grey pair with recognition. The drawing room was utterly silent as he stood there, frozen in place under the force of that squinting, unwavering stare.

"...I don't know," Draco lied, when eternity had passed, and turned to walk as far away from that green gaze as the room would allow.

All dialogue starting with "What is this?" taken directly from Deathly Hallows, pg. 457–459. The scene remains the same from that point on, but from Draco's POV.

Sometimes, Luna Lovegood sat down beside Mr. Ollivander the wandmaker and closed her eyes, imagining what the weather was like outside. She thought about the wind on her face, the snowflakes melting on her warm cheeks. The stillness of frozen tree branches and the bright whiteness as the sun reached its apex. The smell of warm spicy tea, perhaps one of her father's many concoctions, and she smiled. Without any kind of window, it was impossible to tell what time of the day it was, or how long she'd been down here with Mr. Ollivander. The poor old man had been here much longer than she had, and she was beginning to fear he wouldn't make it out alive.

So she told him stories. Luna recalled old tales her mother had told her, and recited the parts she remembered and created the ones she had forgotten. Occasionally he chuckled at her silly tales, and that was all Luna needed. To make him forget, even if just for an instant, that they were trapped in a damp and cold cellar, at the mercy of the Malfoys and other Death Eaters. They were reminded of their predicament whenever someone came to down to bring them some cold food and water, and as days and weeks went by Luna started to feel her skin stretch painfully over her bones. She couldn't begin to fathom how Mr. Ollivander felt after months down here by himself.

It was a surprise to both of them when new prisoners joined them. It didn't take long for her to recognize at least one of them: Dean Thomas. She could smell the coppery odour of blood, and to her surprise it was coming from his bound companion, Griphook the goblin. The two new prisoners had been beaten badly, but it seemed like Griphook had gotten the worst of it.

"We have a nail, hold on, let me try and find it..." Luna's voice was clear but tired, and just as she was about to go search for the nail to help Dean and Griphook get out of their ropes, there was a loud commotion coming from above their heads. They all fell silent and listened intensely. "What is going on up there?" The young woman whispered under her breath, her heart suddenly skipping a few beats and a strange grimace spreading across her thinned face. They all waited in silence, and Luna could feel the hairs on her arms raise in anticipation.

The cellar door suddenly opened and closed after yet other prisoners had been pushed inside. Opening her mouth to welcome them, Luna was cut before she had time to speak by a loud scream of pain. It sent shivers down her back and her throat tightened. Then one of the new prisoners bellowed, "HERMIONE!" and she recognized this voice instantly, as well as the one that followed.

"Be quiet!" The second voice said. "Shut up. Ron, we need to work out a way –"

"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!" The pain that resonated in Ron's voice was visceral. Luna winced and took a few steps forward, her eyes opened large as though that would help her see in the darkness. It had been so long since she'd seen proper light, she could have been blind and wouldn't have known the difference.

"We need a plan, stop yelling – we need to get these ropes off –"

“Harry? Ron? Is that you?" Luna's voice came out a bit more hopeful that it had earlier. She moved closer until she could see the outline of her friends' bound bodies. "Harry? Ron?"

"Luna?" Harry sounded surprised, but Luna felt the warmth behind the way he said her name.

"Yes, it’s me! Oh no, I didn’t want you to be caught!" She bit her bottom lip for a moment as she thought back to her father and how he must have been so worried ever since she'd been kidnapped.

"Luna, can you help us get these ropes off?"

"Oh yes, I expect so... There’s an old nail we use if we need to break anything... Just a moment..." She pulled herself out of her reverie and turned around, half-blindingly walking back towards Mr. Ollivander. They heard Hermione scream again, quickly followed by Ron screaming her name. She felt bad for him - there was nothing they could do from down here. "Mr. Ollivander? Mr. Ollivander, have you got the nail? If you just move over a little bit... I think it was beside the water jug."

The old man leaned to the side and she quickly took the nail and went back towards the staggering silhouettes of Harry and Ron. "You'll need to stay still."

It was easier said than done. She worked the rusty nail on the tight ropes, careful to rub it consistently in the same spot, but Ron kept moving around wildly as Hermione screamed. The nail slipped and scratched Harry's wrist.

"My pocket! In my pocket, there’s a Deluminator, and it’s full of light!" Ron urged and leaned slightly to the left to let Luna look through his pocket.

The Deluminator was a very strange object, she decided. Luna had never seen anything like this, and in any other situation she would have loved to study it and test it more, but now was not the time. She flicked it and a moment later the cellar was filled with floating little balls of light. The young woman's eyes widened and she admired them for a short moment, the tiny suns burning her eyes from the sudden brightness. From the corner of her eye she noticed Harry's face, but she kept from commenting for the moment. Surely it wasn't his fault he'd been disfigured like this.

"Oh, that’s much easier, thanks, Ron." This time she was able to hack at the rope much more easily and with a renewed confidence. She cast a look to the other side of the room, "Hello, Dean!" Luna couldn't quite explain how happy she felt from seeing her friends again. Alive, nonetheless.

Once their bindings were undone, she quickly made her way to Dean and Griphook and broke their ropes as well. Ron was painful to watch, as he ran to the cellar door and tried over and over to Disapparate without a wand.

"There’s no way out, Ron. The cellar is completely escape-proof. I tried, at first. Mr. Ollivander has been here for a long time, he’s tried everything." The last bit of her sentence was drowned in Hermione's screams again and she watched Ron as he crumbled against the wall, sobbing and pounding his fists helplessly. Once again Luna's throat tightened, and then Harry began yelling at something in his hand. She was about to inquire about it when Hermione started screaming again, louder and as though she was even more in pain, and Ron began yelling on top of Bellatrix's own scream. Luna didn't quite make out what they were saying until Harry rushed to the collapsed goblin, shaking him gently.

"Griphook, you must tell them that sword’s a fake, they mustn’t know it’s the real one, Griphook, please –" Harry's whispering was interrupted by someone coming down the cellar steps, and Luna's eyes widened once again when she heard the boy's voice.

"Stand back. Line up against the back wall. Don’t try anything, or I’ll kill you!" Draco's voice was shaking, and it made her wonder what was going on with him. There was a permanent sadness and fear in his face, in the way he walked when he brought them food and water. Just as the door creaked open, Ron clicked the Deluminator and the room was plunged into darkness once again. Luna felt as though the darkness hadn't entirely been restored. She stared at Draco as he came into the cellar, an mix of anger and fear in the way he carried himself, and he left with Griphook.

Before she could say anything, a loud crack resonated against the stone walls of the cellar, and Ron's Deluminator lit the room up again to reveal a house elf.

"DOB – !" Ron choked out before Harry hit him, and Luna smiled in relief. They knew the house elf!

"Harry Potter, Dobby has come to rescue you." His voice was small and squeaky, and the young woman realized he was shaking and looking around nervously.

"But how did you – ?" Harry was interrupted by Hermione's continued screaming. They all shivered and avoided looking at the cellar door. Harry continued in an urgent whisper. "You can Disapparate out of this cellar?" When Dobby nodded, Harry continued. "And you can take humans with you?" Another floppy-eared nod and Harry looked quickly at those gathered around them. "Right. Dobby, I want you to grab Luna, Dean, and Mr. Ollivander, and take them – take them to –"

Luna was about to suggest her house, but then she realized she had no idea if her father was alright and if their house was still standing. Just as she closed her mouth, Ron piped in, "Bill and Fleur’s, Shell Cottage on the outskirts of Tinworth!"

"And then come back," said Harry. "Can you do that, Dobby?" The house elf nodded again.

"Of course, Harry Potter." Dobby sounded less terrified, a bit more determined, and it warmed Luna's heart. He and Harry seemed to be good friends, she would have to ask him more about it later. In a blink, Dobby was holding Mr. Ollivander's hand and stretching out his other one for Dean and her, and Luna realized she wasn't planning on leaving her friends alone.

"Harry, we want to help you!" Luna's eyes shined brightly as she walked away from Dobby, a determined look on her face.

"We can’t leave you here," said Dean in agreement.

"Go, both of you! We’ll see you at Bill and Fleur’s." Harry winced at the last word, and Luna frowned as he looked down in pain. His jaw tightened and for a second there was a flash of horror on his face. "Go! Go! We’ll follow, just go!"

"I'm not leaving my friends behind." Luna murmured and she stalked forward as Dean, Mr. Ollivander, and Dobby Disapparated in a loud crack.

"What was that?" shouted Lucius Malfoy from over their heads. "Did you hear that? What was that noise in the cellar?"

"We better get ready, he will send someone to check up on us. I don't have a wand..." Luna pushed a stray lock of blonde hair out from in front of her eyes, an unyielding look on her face. Weeks of undernourishment and unsanitary living had left her weak and dirty, but she was determined to break her friends out of here, no matter what it took.

All dialogue starting with "HERMIONE!" taken directly from Deathly Hallows, chapter 23. The scene remains the same from that point on, but from Luna's POV.

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